


Somebody That I Used To Know.

by AlexNow



Category: Panic! at the Disco, Young Veins
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 00:36:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1087502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexNow/pseuds/AlexNow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <span class="small">Jon is tired of having to deal with Ryan's bullshit and tired of having to care for him. For once, Ryan is too.</span>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somebody That I Used To Know.

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the song. Written about a year or two ago. Posted until now.

“Boring.” Ryan mutters for only about the fifth time in the last three minutes, repeating it every time he changes a channel before he even _knows_ what’s on. Jon rolls his eyes.

“Ry, how about before you make me go absolutely _insane_ with your childishness w go to a movie. You know, the whole band. With Andy and the Nicks.” He asks this casually, as to not alarm Ryan with yet _another_ one of his attempts to get the younger boy out to do something… interesting and more promising to keep him occupied. As he walks into the room with a can of soda in hand, he sees Ryan purse his lips.

“I don’t want to.” Ryan responds, not even glancing into the other’s direction. Jon’s eyebrows furrow, objecting into his decision and his lips settle into a frown.

“But--” He begins to protest.

“ _No._ ” Ryan snaps, glaring at him. Jon sighs in an irritated matter and sits on the armrest of the couch on the opposite side.

“We could go get some frozen yogurt on the way.” Jon sings and eyes Ryan carefully, taking an innocent sip of his 7-up. Ryan rolls his eyes at Jon’s effort to use his frozen yogurt obsession to his advantage.

Finally he turns back to Jon and shakes his head, choosing to ignore Jon’s surprised expression and the suddenly tense form of his body. He doesn’t need pity at this moment. He is never fond of it, actually. Who could be? No one wants to be given the impression of weak.

“I’d rather stay.” He replies shortly before turning back to the television and flipping through the channels once again. Jon frowns.

“You sure?”

“Well, I said it for a reason, Jonathan.” Ryan snaps and turns through the channels faster, as if to distract himself. Jon sighs.

“Bowling?”

“Suck at it.”

“Mini golf?”

“Boring.”

“Mall?”

“I’m not in the mood to deal with complete strangers who claim to be our number one fan.” Ryan snaps. Jon tenses once more and suddenly he seems impassive, which is shortly followed by a nod.

“Alright. I get it.” He responds and exits the hotel room, slamming the door behind him and proceeding to try and contact his new band mates that were out around the city. He knows that with Ryan’s attitude that negative, he’ll never get him to do anything but sulk like the pathetic man he had turned to be. Jon isn’t sure what happened to his friend, who was the person who carried the most dignity than anyone he ever knew, but he doesn’t like the shell of a person who took his place.

Ryan sighs and scratches the back of his ear, moving it up and running it through his curly hair. He knew he shouldn’t have said that because, yes, he admits it’s the truth (of what he said), but how is it Jon’s fault? Simple. It isn’t.

It is no lie that Ryan is irritated with the fact that millions of fan girls stalked him through the internet  (and even his own hotel room where he’s staying at sometimes) and claim him to be perfect when they just see him that way because of his fame and fortune, but is it enough to have to lose the last if his friends? The answer is obvious.

At first, when Panic! At The Disco had barely started Ryan had no problem with all the attention he was receiving, seeing as he had never gotten It before. He had fortune that before he could only have dreamed of only months before and fame that no longer consisted of being the high school’s freak.

And besides that, more tours and concerts meant more time away from his family. It was more than he could have asked for.

“ _Boring._ ” He grumbled again, making himself snap out of his absurd train of thought. He pressed the plus sign on the remote control again and his thoughts wandered to all of those comments about him on internet.

Ryan shook his head out of frustration and put the volume up so loud he didn’t hear himself as he muttered four words, his auburn eyes glaring a hole into the television. He’s sure it won’t be long before someone of the rooms to his sides calls the lobby and bitches about how his television is so high.

He smiles bitterly and clutches the control. “I’m _anything_ but perfect.”

Sure enough, soon he hears a knock on his door. He snorts and puts the volume back down, flashing his middle finger in the direction of the loud knock and refusing to open it, knowing his reaction will go unnoticed to the lobby manager on the other side of the wood.

His cell phone suddenly rings and he just glances at it, not really in the mood to talk to anyone but Jon. He still needs to apologize, he knows.

 _‘Kels’_   flashes on his cell phone. Ryan sighs and lets it rings. He could talk to her later.

It took two more rings for it to stop and Ryan feels relief. He could use some silence of that stupid concern he always receives but doesn’t deserve. One short minutes later his cell phone lets him know with a bell that he has received a text message.

**_From: Kels_ **

**_3:45 pm._ **

_Hy, Ry. Gnna b at the cafeteria at 5 if you wnt t tlk. I’’ll b waitg. Don’t wrry if u dn’t feel lke going. I’ll undstnd. (:_

_Lv u,_

_-Keltie_

Ryan purses his lips. Somehow, Keltie knows when he feels troubled and always offers to talk. He feels guilty for taking her time. He feels that Keltie really does love him, and that is the reason she puts up with his occasional mood swings.

He doesn’t deserve her.

_“Gang gets hold of a fifteen year old in--”_

_“…And if you call now you can purchase a free set of--”_

_“Well, thank you for--”_

_“Yeah, it was hard--”_

_“¡Como te atreves a--”_

Ryan tenses and stops hearing all together. He _knows_ that voice far too well. Ryan sighs and slowly shakes his head at himself, bending his head to hold the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger but he can’t help himself but go one channel back, past the soap opera in Spanish where he had left off. His doubts were only proved to be correct.

 _“—Got through it, you know? We proved we can go on by ourselves and we don’t lack of anything as long as the two of us are here.”_ He responds, no emotion clearly shown on his face. Brendon sits on a small couch beside Spencer, who just keeps nodding slightly and staring at the floor, lost in thought and not seeming to have anything to say. Brendon’s words stung Ryan, honestly, knowing who they were talking about.

The interviewer nods, trying to make it seem as if it was in understanding, but there was no sympathy in his eyes, just pure vile interest.

 _“A while back Ryan Ross said he was shocked to hear you two were continuing Panic! At The Disco, since he believed that his and Jon’s departure meant a fresh start for all of you. How exactly do you react towards this fact?”_ He asks, and Ryan grunts, knowing entirely well how it is having to deal with interviewers who make the most common or stupid questions.

Brendon sighs and pulls his soft bangs back along with his newly cut short hair, staring at the floor. Spencer, noticing Brendon’s discomfort at this particular question, decides to cut in. Spencer knows Brendon fully well, and though the older of the two had claimed that he’s completely ready to go to interviews and begin to receive questions on the break-up, Brendon doesn’t know the definition of ready.

 _“Uh, we just thought it would be… **wiser** to continue the band after all we’ve been through. Brendon and I,” _He turns his head to Brendon, who slightly nods his head slowly and absently (no one probably noticed it, but Ryan has a trained eye after knowing them for oh so long), _“Couldn’t let all out dedication go to waste. We had to finish what he started, as some would say.”_ Brendon suddenly snaps out of his trance and grins at the interviewer, wanting to transmit to the man, the audience, and especially all his fans, that everything would be fine. But his eyes still seem hollow.

 _“What do you think about ‘The Young Veins’? Surely you know who they are.”_ The interviewer says. The question seems to throw them both, Brendon and Spencer, off guard.

 _“”They can do whatever they want now.”_ Brendon responds without hesitating, his mouth pressed into a hard line, and he laughs tightly with Spencer when the interviewer widens his eyes, throws his hands up in surrender, and says an overly extended, ‘Whoaaaaaa, there. I mean no harm’.

Ryan laughs once without humor form his place in front of the television. Do whatever they want? Hardly. And either way, did they not have that chance before? Ryan remembers being the founder of the band and having power before as well. To hell if they think they were tying him down.

 _“Don’t leave anywhere or touch that control! We’ll be right back with a short performance of Brendon Urie and Spencer Smith, remaining members of Panic! At The Disco.”_ The man exclaims enthusiastically. Behind him, Brendon’s wince at the words _‘remaining members’_ is barely visible.

Abruptly commercials interrupt the interview but Ryan can’t find it in himself to change the channel or turn off the television. Instead, he waits,

_Back to the place where we began, feeling as good as lovers can you know. Yeah we’re feeling so good. Picking up things we shouldn’t read, it looks like the end of history as we know. It’s just the end of the world. Back to the street where we began, feeling as good as love you could, you can. Into a place where thoughts can bloom, into a room where it’s nine in the afternoon._

_And we know it could be._

Ryan’s eyes narrow on Brendon’s inexpressive face as he sings into the microphone just as the camera zeroes in.

Brendon has no real smile on. He just showed off a conceited smirk as his eyes swept over the crowd. He has purple circles under his eyes that his make-up artist obviously desperately tried to cover up and he doesn’t make those crazy comical faces when he does high notes, something Ryan used to love. He doesn’t have that special twinkle in his eyes. Brendon has no sign of life.

“I can’t fucking take this.” Ryan says through gritted teeth. He roughly turns off the television and throws it across the room towards the thick walls, and he feels like screaming,

That wasn’t Brendon. The Brendon _he_ knows grinned non-stop. He joked about the most irrational things just to get someone smile. He had no trouble making others laugh whenever he pleased. He used to put so much emotion in the songs he sung that it had enough power to make anyone cry.

In Ryan’s dictionary the definition of perfect was Brendon Boyd Urie.

The person standing on stage on television wasn’t him.

Ryan got up from the couch and snatched his jacket from the floor. He exited the hotel room and slammed the door behind himself, dialing on his cell phone.

 _“What’s up?”_ A female voice responds, her sugary voice making Ryan cringe only a tiny bit. Ryan sighs and scratches the back of his neck.

“Hey, Keltie. Would you mind meeting up earlier? I miss you.”


End file.
